One Eye Winner
by DeadlyGreenOctopus
Summary: This is the tale of a caravan driver named Winner. It takes place around the same time that the vault dweller leaves to find the water chip. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: I am a Winner

My name is Winner to some, One-Eyed Winner to most. My father claimed he named me Winner because I came out of the womb of a whore with a dead twin brother. He said I was special. That I had a great future ahead of me. That destiny had something special in store for me. I'm pretty sure he would be disappointed if he could see me now.

I have been a caravan master for the Crimson Caravan company for six long years. Caravans have been my life ever since I was five years old, when my father first took me on a run to Junktown from the Hub.

Today, I am inside the collapsing walls of Shadysands. It is December 10th 2161, about 8:00 in the morning.

I slept with a young woman who was noticeably pregnant last night and I feel a little guilty. Not for very long though. I've done worse.

I reach over her into my filthy pile of clothes and I find what I am craving. A crumpled pack of cigarettes. I pull one out and light it with a timeworn lighter that doesn't work half the time. I realize that I only have six left. Cigarettes are rare to come by and go for 75 caps a pack in most places. I know I should conserve, but I like to indulge in the finer things in life, if there is such a thing in this decaying world.

After feeling the buzz from the first cigarette of the day, I move onto my next vice: Mentats. I only use to take them during high profile trades to keep my senses sharp, back when I was just starting out. Now, I have to take three or four just to make it comfortably through the day.

I pop one into my mouth and chew the red bitter tablet. I know the pregnant girl stole a few last night while she thought I was sleeping. I considered punishing her, but she has a hard life as it is.

I put myself lethargically into the only outfit I own: A pair of tattered breeches, a sweat-stained tank top and a red leather jacket I found on a corpse when I was seventeen. A pair of dusty boots cover my blistered feet and I put on an eye patch over my right eye socket.

Now, I must say that I have not described the most appealing leading-man. No worries, I am no ghoul. On the contrary, I am quite handsome in most regards, in a rugged kind of way. I have no problems attracting the ladies. Well, that might be stretching the truth, but I have no problems attracting the easy ones at least.

Lastly, I strap on a decorated belt with duel holsters on each hip. Inside the holsters: twin antique Raging Bull high-caliber revolver's. Since I ran out of .454 Casull cartridges long ago, I carry them mostly for looks. My father gave them to me and told me that they had been in the family for many years. Later, I learned that story was bullshit, he stole them from a man named Hightower.

Just in case your wondering how I defend myself, having two unloaded guns strapped to my hips and all, I do keep a loaded Magnum under my jacket when I'm on the road, but when I find my self in shit-holes like Shadysands, I just keep it in the cart. You would have to be nuts to mess with a trader inside the walls of a town.

Anyways I'm dressed and I'm ready to meet the challenge of another long day.

The room that was lent to me by the town's leader, Aradesh, can hardly be described as a room. Its more like a musty closet with a filthy mattress crammed into it. He tells me that this room is exclusively for traders. What an asshole. I bet they stick brooms and junk in here after I leave.

I leave the "room" and I am greeted by Aradesh's daughter, Tandi, who is setting the dining room table for breakfast.

" Good morning. I think your friends are by the gate, Winner. Anything I can do for you before you leave?" She says more out of boredom than concern.

I can think of a few things she could do for me.

"Not friends, employees rather. And I'm fine thank you." I respond politely. "You guys sure did buy a lot of ammo this month, trouble in paradise?"

"Radscorpions, Raiders…take your pick." She tells me somberly.

"Hmmm…I have a feeling that things well get better soon, you'll see. Now…would you care for a good-bye kiss before I leave?" I say with my most charming smile.

"Ha!…you wish. You know I'm with Seth now, silly. Plus, there's no telling where that mouth of yours has been."

"Ouch…oh well…can't blame me for trying, sunshine." I say clutching my chest as if she broke my heart. I'm going to do her one day I tell myself over and over.

"My father will be out shortly to see you off, One-eye. Be safe on the road. See ya next month."

"I'll be seeing you in my dreams before that, gorgeous." I say as I swagger out the door.

Time to round up the troops.

My caravan consists of six ragtag members not including myself. Their names:

Beamer: When I was given my first caravan to master, Beamer came highly recommended by Keri, Demetre's daughter (Demetre is the man I work for). I have seen many come and go, even seen some unlucky souls bite the dust, but Beamer has stuck with me through thick and thicker. He has good eyes and a strong back. He loads and unloads the carts and serves as my sniper on the long road.

Boxer: As his name implies, he use to box for Gizmo until Gizmo traded him off to me for a rare 9mm Mauser I found on the corpse of some guy in a leather getup. He is not the brightest man I've come across and he sometimes mutters nonsense, but he is the strongest of my group. He serves as a loader and my personal bodyguard during trades.

Cecil: an ex-addict I picked up at the Falcon Maltese one year past. He is ugly as a deathclaw's mother and is unpleasantly smelly, but he has a silk touch with the three brahmin that pull the carts. He guards the goods at night and is in charge of feeding and handling the brahmin.

Handsy: Is tasked with taking inventory and making sure people get what they pay for. I caught him stealing from me two years back and didn't have it in my heart to put a bullet in him. Instead I gave him a job I dreaded doing anyway. He is the youngest in our group so he gets all the shit jobs.

Creeper: A friend of my father's and somewhat of an uncle to me. When he's not falling down drunk he is half way pleasant to be with, but those instances are far and few between. He is an incredible burden on my caravan and most of the group would breath easier if I was to get rid of him, but I can't. He knew my father.

Bislane: None are more beautiful or smarter than she. Bislane is a skilled bargainer and negotiator and can charm the pants off of anyone. She was a waitress at some bar called the Skum Pitt in Junktown and somehow swindled me out of a few crates of liquor for half the price I was asking them for. I tried to convince her it would be more exciting to join us than wasting away in some dump. A few weeks later she caught up with me and joined. She is the only one in my group who can read and write (Including myself, I just pretend I can.)

This is my family. This is my unit. Together we run the best caravan in all the wastes.

As I step out of Aradesh's hut and the sun's harsh light begins to burn my dreary eye. The smell of manure greets my nose like an old friend. Shadysands is a shit-hole in my opinion and a pain in the ass to get to, but they treat us well and always spend at least 600 caps when we visit. Its worth it.

I decide that I should check up on Cecil first and when I do, I find him sleeping on the job, nestled between twin piles of steaming brahmin poo near the main gate. I shake my head wearily. Disgraceful little…

"Cecil get your fartsucking ass into gear. Were leaving in five. Get the Brahmin ready to go." I command my sleepy night-watch. He awakens groaning and complaining and I watch his stick figure frame get up out of his bed of feces.

"S-S-Sorry boss, I guess I must have puh-passed out or something. Don't wah-worry nothing was stolen." He stutters.

"How do you know nothing was stolen you dumbass, you just woke up!"

"Uh…that's a g-g-good point boss. I…uh…brahmin will be ready in a jiffy."

I feel a dull headache coming on. I might need another mentat.

By the gate, I see Beamer and Boxer already loading goods into our nearly empty carts. Handsy is marking off items diligently, one by one. Good men. Reliable.

"Good morning gentlemen. Everything accounted for Handsy?" I croak between puffs of smoke.

"Yup. Did really good this month. Sold almost everything we had. I can't wait to get home, boss. There's this chick I want to-"

I decide to ignore Handsy's rantings. The kid never shuts up.

This was a good run I think to myself as I begin searching for Bislane. 9,530 caps in one run: must be some kind of record. Demetre will be pleased. I will get 3,000 of it and my crew 600 each. The rest goes to the Crimson Caravan. 500 of the 3000 caps I receive will go to Decker (don't ask).

I work loosely with the Crimson Caravan at the Hub, have been for most of my wretched life. My father joined me up when I was six years old, working under a hard-ass named Marloft. I did the shittiest jobs he could offer until I was 15. I even had a thing for his daughter Sarah. Once I was promoted to guarding the rear my life took a turn for the worse.

On my second day of being rear guard, our caravan was attacked by raiders. These raiders had a vendetta against Marloft and we all paid dearly for it. The leader of the raiders carved my eye out with a knife and force fed it to me. I got off easy compared to what they did to the rest. Poor Marloft got it the worse.

They stripped me of my clothes, pumped me with stimpacks and sent me running back naked to the Hub to send a message to the Traders. Very bad memories.

A few painful years later I would head my first caravan. One-eyed Winner they would soon call me. I quickly became the best caravan driver Crimson ever had.

Currently, Bislane is waving and saying her charming goodbyes to Aradesh and his daughter. She did good this run. Bonus might be in order. She walks up to me and we begin our morning routine.

"345 caps, 6 bags of Brahmin feed, 9 Stimpacks, 2 feather pillows, a pair of shoe strings, a pair brass knuckles and… Pre-war souvenir nail-clippers from…some place called the Seattle Space-needle." She reports while she looks at me with her dark, but somehow cheerful eyes.

"Nail-clippers, huh? I'll be damned. I'm sure there's a Pre-war collector somewhere who would love to have those. Not bad. Anything else?" I ask.

"Well…I traded one of our blankets for an old book." She says innocently.

"Sigh…you and your books." I say, pretending to be annoyed. I secretly love watching her read her books.

"That librarian at the Hub might be interested in bargaining for it after I'm done reading it." She tells me like always. I know she has a shelf full of them at her place, back at the Hub. None of them ever see the library.

"Whatever, keep it, I don't care." I say holding my hands out.

She hands me a worn notebook and I sign it. Done deal.

"Have fun last night?" She asks sarcastically. I can tell she doesn't approve of the young woman I shared my bed with. Hell, I hardly approve of it.

"It had its moments. Feeling jealous perhaps?" I tease.

I would like nothing more than to run my fingers through her jet-black hair and kiss her soft lips and make love to her sweet, flat-chested body. But, it would ruin everything between us to say the very least.

I have made a few passes at her in the past (mostly while intoxicated) and she has politely refused each attempt. Oh well, it is said that you never get the woman you truly want to be with. How very depressing.

"I'm fine thank you. The affairs of a lonely man is his business." She smiles. She wants me. Well…I think she wants me that is.

"Winner…what about that thing we discussed last night…you know…abut the Khan's?" she asks suddenly concerned.

"Not right now, wait till we are on the road….where's Creeper?" I ask, annoyed once again that I have to ask this question every morning.

"Not sure. He was up drinking late last night at that den near the front gate. I'll send Cecil to find him."

"Don't bother, I'll do it. Get everything ready to go." I say as I toss my cigarette at some wretch leaning against the gate wall. He scrambles to put it to his blistered lips and takes a long drag.

I find Creeper tits up in a festering pile of his own vomit inside the grimy den located near the main gate. The den smells of many disturbing things and everything seems to be in a state of disrepair. I can only imagine the low-life's that call this dump a home.

Creeper is an unattractive man with a swarthy demeanor and a mouthful of oversized yellow teeth. His stained shirt struggles to contain his bulbous beer gut. I put a boot caressingly to his toothy face.

"Get up old man."

"Wazzah…wachu shayin at meh…Whiner." Creeper says between his floor shaking belches.

Whiner. I hate that name. Ever since I was a child he's called me that.

"I said…Get your fat ass up or I'm leaving you here to rot, you sack of shit! We are leaving in five minutes." I say, trying to remain calm. I really need another mentat.

"Boy, iffin yer daddy could hear shu shpeakin in at me lika tha, shpank you…or sha…whazzah shu sayin." Creeper slurs, drool pouring out the side of his filth covered mouth.

I should just leave him. I swear, if it wasn't for him being friends with my father back in the day…

"That yer man?" says a hoarse voice behind me. Shit.

I turn around to see three hooligans, two brandishing knives and one pawing and scratching at his crotch. I don't want a fight this early in the morning.

"I said, is that yer man?" He repeats. I can smell his breath from across room, smells like a salty piss-bucket.

I twist my face into a grimace and squint my remaining eye. Hopefully, he will recognize me and cool off.

"Do you know who I am, shithead." I say in my most intimidating voice. Its all about confidence when dealing with these kinds of people.

"Yeah, and I don't care either." He says puffing his bony chest out. "Yer man over thar owes me 46 caps and a deck of cards that he mouth-shatted all over."

"Wha…? Ima not goin at pashin shu fuggin…whurs mah gun…teachin shu how at…huh?…where imah at…"

I look down at the pile of filth at my feet and I search for a reason why Creeper is worth this trouble. Nothing springs to mind.

"Deal with it. Consider yourself lucky. Go sit down and shut up. I've killed scum like you for less." I tell him. Of course I am lying. I rarely get into fights that I can avoid. Not that I don't get rowdy every once in a while. I just prefer the odds to be more…favorable.

I reach for my trusty Raging Bull revolvers and I remember that they are empty. I can hear Beamer and Boxer loading the carts outside and consider shouting for help, but I realize that I would come off as a pussy if I did. Got to keep my image no matter what. Show any kind of softness and you lose all respect.

I pull one of my empty guns out of its worn holster and aim it at the mouthy thug hoping that they will back down. As soon as I do three more men walk in, two of them carrying rifles.

This could get ugly.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Blue Pajamas

I feel a cold sweat running down my face as three men walk into the smoke-filled den. I am currently holding an unloaded gun at a thug who claims I owe him caps for the misdeeds of one of my crewmen, Creeper. I feel the effects of the mentat tablet I took earlier finally kicking in and I begin to think of a way out.

To my relief, I recognize one of the three men that walk in to be Seth. Seth is what some would call a town guard. I might be able to get out of this after all. His job is to keep the peace after all.

"What's going on here? Seth says as soon as he see's my gun.

"This fuggin trader owes me money, Seth. His man on tha floor over thar has done me wrong!" The thug bellows, spit dribbling down his repulsive face.

I calmly holster my gun and regain my composure.

"This man is lying and deserves to be shot for being as rude as he is. If he says one more thing I swear you'll never see another caravan come through this shit-hole town again." Of coarse I don't have that kind of authority to make such statements, but I know they won't risk being left high and dry with raiders attacking every other day.

Seth only thinks about it for a few seconds before he points his rifle at the thug.

"Jimmy, apologize to Mr. Winner and hope to god he forgives you." Seth says.

The thug looks at Seth incredulously with his toothless mouth gaped open. I grin ear to ear.

"No need for apologies, just don't le it happen again." I say as I step firmly onto Creeper's wrinkled hand.

"Ahhmm….Wachu doin at ma hansh." Creeper slurs in pain.

"Winner, allow me to escort you to the gate." Seth says to me while Creeper slowly pulls himself up.

After Beamer and Boxer load Creeper's drunken ass into a cart, we begin to set out. Seth and Aradesh apologized for the trouble and I tell them it was fine as long as it didn't happen again.

My crew falls into formation as soon as Shadysands fades behind us. Beamer lags behind a little to guard the rear and Boxer scouts ahead of us. Cecil is swatting flies from his smelly hide. Bislane is sitting on one cart reading her new book that I'm sure she will read a million times. Handsy is staring off into the distance daydreaming.

Creeper is slowly sobering up and stumbling beside me.

"Heh heh…Dum-asses think they can scare us. They got lucky." The old drunk says.

"No…you got lucky, old man. I almost left you back there. I swear, next time you pull some shit like that-"

"I ever tell ya about the time me an yer daddy took on 30 men durin the Merchant Wars back in 2126? We was just kids…but damn if we weren't the toughest sons of bitches. Took em out just the two of us. Musta had four women that night, heh heh." Creeper reminisces.

"You _have_ told me and last time you said it was 20 men. Look, I'm being serious, lay off the booze or I'm cutting you loose." I warn him.

"Awww c'mon, lighten up Whiner. You wouldn't do that to your old man's best friend would cha?" Creeper chuckles nonchalantly.

I hate that name.

"Alright, listen up. We are paying the Khans a visit before we head home. I want all of you on your best behavior. No screw ups like last time." I warn the group.

What happened last time essentially boils down to Creeper being his usual self, but I bet your really wandering why traders like us are meeting with raiders in the first place. Its simple. With war and violence a lot of money changes hands. The raiders want guns and supplies to terrorize small villages like Shadysands. Which leads to Shadysands wanting guns to defend themselves. Which leads back to the raiders who need even more guns. I'm not proud of it but its necessary to generate the caps that I desperately need.

In exchange for the guns, Stimpacks and ammo, The raiders let us pass through their territory with impunity, plus a few caps for big deals. Now, just because I do these dirty deals doesn't mean all the other caravans do. In fact, it works in my favor if other caravans are attacked by the raiders. Less competition, more work for me and the Crimson Caravan don't get suspicious of the secret deals going down behind their backs.

Like I said before, I'm not proud of it.

"We should just get rid of the old drunk. Does nothing but causes trouble and drink." Handsy says, his eyes glued to his binoculars.

"Well, if I was to get rid of crew members because they caused trouble I would have none left. Or should I remind you of the trouble you have caused, kid." I say with a lop-sided smile. Bislane looks up from her book and gives Handsy a dirty look.

The tale of how Handsy got his nickname is a amusing one. One night, while out in the wastes between trips to Junktown and the Hub, I woke up to shouting. Soon after, Handsy was running past me with his pants around his ankles, Bislane running after him with a belt. After the excitement died down Bislane told me of how she caught him masturbating near her while everyone was asleep. The next day, we teased him until he got the nickname Hands-in-my-pants. This eventually led to the shortened version: Handsy.

"I don't cause nearly as many headaches as that sack of…wait…I see someone coming." Handsy says suddenly concerned. I snatch his binoculars and take a peek to the west.

What I see is a lone figure dressed in blue heading our way. You rarely see anyone traveling alone in these parts. I give back Handsy's crappy binoculars and whistle loudly three times. Immediately, Beamer and Boxer pull in closer to the caravan and we come to a stop.

"Beamer hide in the cart with the rifle, if he tries anything stupid waste him. Boxer you stand next to me and look angry. Handsy get in the cart with the binoculars and make sure he's alone. Bislane get ready to make a deal, he'll probably be needing supplies. Creeper you help Bislane. Cecil…go up to him and find out what he's about."

"W-w-why me? He's probably a scout for robbers. I-I-I…"

"Just do it! Beamer's got a rifle on him if he makes a move. Now hurry!" Always complaining that one is. Stuttering prick.

Soon, Cecil is shuffling off towards the stranger, muttering to himself every step of the way. I would normally send someone with more intelligence, but I need everyone else right where they are. I lean up against the cart and try to look intimidating, which is pretty much pointless when you have an ex-boxing champ standing next to you.

Soon I watch Cecil's stick-thin body come to a halt as he greets the stranger in the strange get-up. So far so good I think.

"What's he doing Handsy?"

"Uh…It looks like the mystery man is not packing any heat. He's pointing towards the east like he's looking for something." Handsy observes. Better get a second opinion to be safe.

"Beamer?"

"The kid is right, although I've never seen someone wearing what this guy is. He looks too clean if you ask me." Beamer replies in his usual gruff tone, sweat trickling down his ebony skin. Only rich people are clean. Time to make some money.

I whistle to catch Cecil's limited attention and wave at him. He nods and starts walking back with the stranger following closely behind him.

I light up a cigarette and begin to munch on a mentat. The fact that this guy is all alone in the desert, wearing some kinda blue pajamas and is only carrying a small bag makes me feel uneasy. As soon as he is in talking distance, Bislane goes to work.

"Hello there, stranger. Need some supplies? Or maybe some directions? I would be more than happy to help you with either." Bislane purrs, her words smothered in sweet honey. Most men become stupid and spend more money than they probably should when she is doing her thing. I can tell she senses this guy might be loaded with caps.

"Uh…hello, my name is Dr. Evan Ledger. I come from…well…out west. I am searching for a chip. A water purifying chip to be specific." The stranger responds in a polite tone.

My crew exchanges looks with each other and I decide to step in.

"A water purifying chip, eh? Sounds like vault-junk." I say, noticing a slight twitch from the stranger at the word _vault_.

"Yes, it is vault technology. Do you know where I might be able to find one, perchance?"

"Perchance? Water chips? Boy, you a chem-reliant or something?" Creeper interrupts. He receives a swift kick to the shins from one of Bislane's thin legs and whimpers off behind one of the carts.

"Hmmm…lets do some business first, then I'll see if I can't remember something." I reply. The stranger doesn't look pleased, but hey, information doesn't come free.

"We have guns, ammo, water, stimpacks…maybe a new outfit might do you some good, handsome." Bislane says with a charming smile.

"Sure. How do we go about…transacting?" The stranger asks. Bislane shoots me a confused look before continuing.

"…well…If you have something of value, you can trade it to get something you might need. Or you can pay with caps…" Bislane replies as if talking to a child.

"Uh…caps…?"

This guy is hopeless.

"Bislane, how about you get our friend here a gun, a box of ammo and a flask of water." I interject before the poor sap has a chance to further embarrass himself. "I can tell your new to these parts so…how about you just take them free of charge as a welcoming gift."

"Wow…that's very kind of you…I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"I'm One-Eyed Winner and the beautiful woman fetching your gifts is Bislane. The rest of these sad-sacks are unimportant. If you head east of here you'll come to a village called Shadysands. I've heard that they originally came from a vault so they'll most likely have what your looking for. But, be careful not to step into a radscorpion nest or get pinched by a bunch of raiders. Always keep your gun cocked and locked."

"Right…I'll be sure to do that, Winner." Evan says as Bislane hands him some supplies. "I won't forget your kindness…I'll repay you some day."

"Don't mention it." I say as the stranger heads east with almost fanatic fervor.

After the weird stranger leaves our sight, we pack up and continue heading south towards the Khan's camp. Something about that guy bugged me.

"Free of charge, huh? That's a first." Bislane muses as she opens her book.

"Eh…he had nothing worth trading anyway and to send him away empty handed would be a death sentence. Plus, something weird about him, like he's destined for greater things or something."

"Haha…sound just like your daddy. Always on about destiny and love and this and that…chip of the ole block you are." Creeper mutters.

"He's probably dead already. That stuff you gave him could have bought me a hooker in Junktown, boss." Handsy chirps, his eyes once again glued to his binoculars.

"You wouldn't know what to do with a hooker even if you had the caps to buy one, kid. Probably last two seconds I'd wager." Beamer says laughing.

"Nah-uh. I can go all night, baby." The kid boasts, swaying his hips back in forth. "This one time I had two bitches-"

"You're a virgin. You told me so last week." I remind the boy. If I didn't stop him, he could go all day with his bragging.

"I once had a nice belt buckle." Boxer mumbles.

"Uh…that's nice Boxer." I tell the giant.

Boxer says random things sometimes. Gizmo told me it started after he received an uppercut to the jaw back in his glory days as a boxing champ. Said it knocked his brain loose. I don't care as long as he swings his sledgehammer when and where I tell him to.

"You think Garl's going to agree to stand down?" Beamer says after a short silence. He brings up a good question.

"I hope so." I say to the old sniper. "Its not going to be easy to convince him with that bitch by his side. You guys need to be quite and quick with unloading the goods. That goes double for you Creeper."

"Best behavior, I promise."

"Bislane, I want you to stay with the carts this time." I say to the pale beauty.

"Why…you think there's going to be trouble?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Dirty Dealings

I nervously light a cigarette and place a bitter mentat tablet on my tongue as I exhale a cloud of smoke. Only four cigarettes left. My life is in serious danger right now and all I can think about is how long I should wait before smoking my next one. I need to clear my head and focus. I need the mentat to do its job now. Right now.

I am negotiating with the leader of the Khans in his ramshackle house which is surrounded by several makeshift tents. His name is Garl and he is a very intimidating man, but he is not the one I am afraid of. It is his advisor, Gwen, that I am truly scared shitless of. Garl is more muscle than brains, but Gwen is as sharp as they come. That's all the more reason why I should quit stealing glances at her cleavage and start focusing on a way to weasel my way out this place.

"What did you just say?" Gwen says to me, not believing that I had the balls to say what I just did.

"Well…I just think kidnapping Aradesh's daughter is not such a good idea right now." I begin nervously. "Shadysands has enough on their plate at the moment, with all the radscorpion problems and stuff. You kidnapped two of their women just three days ago…I just think you should let things cool down a bit. You guys have plenty of supplies to last you a few months, why not take this opportunity to relax a bit. Not to mention, they just received supplies, which includes more ammo than they usually buy." I explain, somehow managing to keep my voice calm and soothing.

I need to keep things even between the Khans and the village of Shadysands. If one side gets stronger than the other, I lose money in the end. If Garl decides to kidnap Tandi during their next raid than things might get out of hand between the two. If only I could speak to Garl alone, I know I could convince him not to do it, but with Gwen here its hopeless.

"I don't know why we, the greatest band of raiders in the wastes, should be taking the advise of some one-eyed, chem-reliant, junk peddler!" Gwen shouts, rallying the many thugs surrounding the table we are seated at. They start whooping and hollering and spitting and swearing. I just want to run from this room and never look back, but I have to stay calm. Stay focused.

"Ok, maybe your right. Maybe I should just mind my business and continue supplying your gang with weapons and medicine and just be on my way. All I'm doing is trying to warn my favorite customers of the danger that lies before you, should you chose to raid Shadysands tomorrow." I say calmly, as I stand from the table. "but, don't say that I didn't give you a fair warning next time we meet."

"Next time we meet, he says…hehe." Gwen says with a cruel smirk. I hear a commotion outside.

"Wait right there, Winner." Garl shouts, breaking his long silence. He has been leaning against a filthy refrigerator, glaring at me the whole time Gwen and I have been negotiating. I think he wants to kill me.

The room becomes very quite in anticipation of what their leader has to say. Only noises I can hear are the two abused women whimpering in the corner. I feel the blood in my veins freeze.

"I'm just curious…is that drunk, Creeper, still in your crew?"

Shit.

"Uh…yeah he is last time I checked. Hehe…what has he done this time." I joke around. Garl does not seem amused.

"The last time you guys were here he forced himself on one of the women in my camp and got her pregnant." Garl says, his face an emotionless mask.

"Oh…that's…not good. Look, I'm very sorry Garl…I…" I blurt out. This is not good.

"You can tell _her_that your sorry. She's buried in the ground out behind this house. You see, once she found out that she was going to be a mommy she slit her wrists. I guess she couldn't handle the shame of having a bastard child whose father is an old, fat drunk."

"…I uh…whatever I can do to make you…to make this better, I will do. I…"

"She was my sister." Garl says in a deadly tone.

Oh no.

I suddenly feel a sharp pain from behind and I fall to the floor. Shortly after, I feel many boots stomping and kicking me from all sides. This is bad. I'm going to die. This can't be happening. I should have never messed with these raiders. I got to too greedy, too confidant.

I am being dragged outside. The first thing I see is that my crew is being held at gun point. They planned this from the beginning. They were only pretending to negotiate with me. My carts are gone, the brahmin are missing. All my goods and money…This is bad. I'm fucked.

My face meets the ground as they drop me and I'm fighting to stay awake. I can feel the blood running down my back. Hit me in the back of the head. Dirty bastards.

I hear Bislane crying out my name and she tells them not to hurt me. She does love me, I knew it. Please don't let them hurt her. I never got to tell her how-

Not now. Stay focused.

"Where is he!?" Garl's voice booms.

I can hear the sound of someone being dragged towards Garl's hulking frame. Most likely that would be Creeper. Someone roughly pulls my head up by my hair and whispers something. I can't understand him. I'm in too much pain. Everything is a blur.

I somehow manage to see Creeper on his knees in front of Garl.

"You prepared to die? Nobody messes with my family! She was my sister!" Garl shouts. I can see tears falling down his face.

"No…please…she…I…" Creeper blubbers between sobs. "I loved her, man! I…uh…her …I was going to propose to Donna, I swear!"

"Her name was HEATHER! I'm Going To Kill You!" Garl shouts.

The first punch is enough to break through a brick wall. So is the second and the third. Creeper's face is destroyed by the time he slumps to the ground. But Garl doesn't stop there. He urinates into a empty wine bottle and then shatters it on the old man's head. I close my eyes. I can't watch this.

After a few tense minutes all goes silent. Even Creeper's cries of pain cease. He must be dead by now.

"Open your eyes you piece of shit." I here a voice behind me say. I think his name is Dorian. I can't remember.

"You want a chance to make things better, huh?" Garl asks me.

I suddenly find my voice.

"More…than anything. You can kill…me, but let my men go…they had no part in this." So much blood is spilling out of my mouth.

"Gwen…hand Mr. Winner here a gun. Better yet, make it that new shotgun he just "sold" us."

Gwen gives Garl a surprised look but doesn't hesitate to follow orders. I am soon handed an old shotgun and I am dragged to my feet. I then wait for Garl's so called chance to make things better.

"I give you two choices One-eye. You can either shoot this piece of shit with that shotgun…"

"Garl…wait…I can't do that… he's like family to me. I've known him for years…he…my father."

"OR you and your whole crew can die a slow painful death. Your pretty little foreign girl over there will be my sex slave until she begs for death!"

Without thinking twice, I slowly begin to step towards the mangled body of Creeper. He is moaning incoherently, crawling away from Garl and when I finally stand before him he looks up at me. His face is swollen and disgusting, half his teeth are missing, some are even on his chin in broken pieces.

"Whiner…help…I'm…so…sorry…" He mumbles between ragged gasps for air.

I have to do this.

This is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. If I even have a life left that is. I've known him for so many long, cruel years. I've killed before, but nobody that I've known for more than a few seconds. I have to do this. Bislane's crying on Handsy's shoulder. I have to do this.

With the unforgiving sun beating down on me I raise the heavy shotgun at Creeper and aim it at his destroyed face. I'm doing him a favor I tell myself. He deserves to die. But all those years together, he wasn't always like this. I have to do it. The last link to my father will be severed. If I don't my whole crew will die and I'll be last. I have to do this.

So many memories flash in my head. My dad dragging Creeper home from a long night of drinking. Creeper teasing me with that stupid name. Creeper being there the first day of being a caravan master. I have to do this.

Bislane…I can't lose her. I have to do this. I have to do this. I have to do this.

I pull the trigger.

A shotgun blast at close range to the face is not pretty sight to behold. Chunks of skull and meat and brain and organs scatter everywhere. My hands ache from the violent recoil. I'm covered in what used to be my father's friend.

I feel like crying, but I can't.

Dorian quickly retrieves the shotgun and shoves me back to the ground. I don't even bother resisting, I just fall. I don't want to get up. I wish they would just leave me here to rot on the sand.

"You see! This is what you get when you fuck with Khan's!" Garl shouts. His gang begins hollering and cheering his name.

"Okay…I killed Creeper. Now, let us go!" I scream.

The Khan's become silent again.

"Fine…let em go. Strip em down to their underwear and turn em lose-"

"W-w-wait!!" Cecil bellows. "Puh-please o mighty G-G-Garl! Please let muh-me join the Khan's! Puh-please!"

This can't get any worse…

"Hah. Why would we need a skinny wretch like you!" Gwen screeches.

"The brahmin you just…uh…acquired. You'll n-n-need someone to take care of the-them!"

"Cecil! You fucking traitor!" Beamer says through gritted teeth.

"Fine, let him join. Strip the rest of em and turn them loose." Garl commands.

Two raiders walk up to me and begin removing my belt, taking my rare, twin Raging Bull revolver's in the process. My jacket, shirt, pants, boots, socks, cigarettes, mentats, lighter, knife and hidden stash of caps are taken from me. All I have left is an old pair of white boxers.

I hear Bislane begging them not to take her necklace that her mother gave her when she was child.

They take it anyway.


End file.
